Misunderstood and Underestimated
by Bracken-Fae
Summary: This is a story about being yourself, and being proud of it, and also learning to love someone so different from what you have been taught is acceptable. Its rated PG13 for lots and lots of violence, and sum swearing. erm... anything elseee? o yeh, enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: The Arrival of a Prodigy

OK, I'm just writing this because I had the idea, if it gets nowhere, which is hiiiighly likely, DON'T BLAME MEEEEE!! Well, it is another of my cheesy romance fictions, buuut, I am gonna try my hardest to put something a little more in there. Maybe Action, I don't know, but please review and tell me wot u think!!! Oh, yeah, this is also my first Harry Potter fanfic, so please be kind!!! Oh, and Narcissa is nice because I feel that she does love Draco, but she can't control Lucius, you know, with all the Death Eatery type stuff. oh, and on the genre side of things, I think Angst will be a contender in there as well. In fact I don't think, I know. So sorry, if you don't like angst!!

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Chapter 1: The Arrival of a Prodigy

It was raining. Not just any type of rain, the drops which were pounding Draco's window panes were huge. He was glad he was in the warm. Sort of. He looked farther out, to the horizon, which seemed to be as grey as everywhere else. The trees looked like water colours, which should have been bright, bold and beautiful (it _was _the summer holidays) instead, smudged and dull-looking. The Sun was nowhere to be seen, not even a glimmer of its rays shone through the grey clouds, usually fluffy and dotted around the beautiful blue sky at this time, now daunting and as they meant to shut out all light whatsoever, so that darkness would rule eternally. Draco shuddered, and tried to block the thoughts creeping into his mind. He sort of wished that he didn't have to go back to Hogwarts after the summer holidays, but was also glad that he didn't have to hide every time his Father's name was mentioned. He had been beaten on every occasion Lucius had returned from wherever he was, which, fortunately, was not too often. 

'What if this is a bad omen? Father is coming home from his business trip this evening, maybe…' he added another lighted candle to the array of pin-pricks standing out against the darkness of his room, and let the calm vibes, seemingly coming off these candles, wash over him, and, finally, letting them enter his troubled mind, and draw out the bad thoughts 'Don't be silly,' he found him telling himself 'Omens belong to a very unreliable branch of magic, you don't believe in all that cra-' he broke off, jumping about a foot in the air. The room, for a second, had been filled with yellowy light. He sighed, relaxing again. 'Oh, it was only a bolt of lightning' 

At dinner that night, Draco was quieter than usual. His Mother's chatting about dinner parties and so on just went straight through him. Usually he listened, but tonight his brain was occupied, caught up in the dark thoughts he thought when alone, when he knew he would not be disturbed. 

"Draco, darling, are you OK? You seem so distant tonight, you're not ill, are you?" Narcissa fussed. Usually this annoyed Draco, but tonight his mind was glad of the sudden change of subject, the other had been weighing heavily upon his already full to bursting head. 

"Yes, Mother, I'm fine" He droned, knowing she would see right through this petty disguise. "So, you were saying, this party you are thinking of holding"

"No, I was talking about something completely different" A frown crumpled Narcissa's beautiful and blemish-free face. She hated it when she knew there was something wrong with her son, but he never told her these days, afraid it would get round to his father that he actually did have feelings. She shook these sad feelings out of her mind, and continued, with a slight smirk playing across her full, pink lips. "What I was talking about was who your Father is bringing home this evening" 

"Oh, who is it?" Draco asked his face showing only signs of interest. But Narcissa didn't reply, because she was busy rushing to the window, which had just flung open, apparently with a fresh gust of wind, but, as Draco would find out, a second later, it was not as it first seemed. 


	2. Chapter 2: Only a Squib

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of its characters. I have decided to put some Action, I know I said that last chappy and something perhaps a little deeper, you know, just observations on how people's minds seem to work or something. I dunno, but expect goodness, hopefully!!!

OK, I promise I am working on a new chapter as we speak, it may take a while though, so just stick with me!!!

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Chapter 2: Only a Squib

Lucius lay, sprawled out on the floor, a girl lying next to him. Lucius seemed perfectly dry, but the girl was absolutely dripping wet. Draco wondered if this was the 'who' his Mother was talking about. Lucius suddenly jumped up, and dragged this messed up and seemingly about to collapse girl up with him, mumbling something which Draco knew would be curses.

"Hello, darling" Narcissa said hesitantly to her fuming husband, fearing he might lash out at this small, quivering girl if his attention was turned to her for too long. Then, seeing that the girl was about to faint from the cold she was catching, she added "Quickly, come here, Bessie" (addressing the maid, rushing past, trying to find the cook, to make Lucius his dinner) "Quick, get me a towel, and some warm clothes, for this young lady. She'll catch her death if stands around here to long" Draco shuddered, inwardly. He hated it when his Mother was all namby-pamby and Mother-ly.

"No, Bessie" Drawled Lucius "_This _one doesn't deserve it." He gave her the most fowl look, as if she had just crawled in from the garden and thrown up on his shoe. The girl scowled at him, and was just about to spit fire at him, Draco thought, when he decided he'd intervene. After all, if she got a beating, it'd probably get round to himself when Lucius was done.

"So, Father, did you have a good business trip?" Lucius growled at him, and Draco understood he'd obviously touched a nerve. Bessie was still standing there, as if torn between following mistress' orders, and getting beaten by the master, or obeying Lucius, and betraying Narcissa, who was actually nice to her, and going against her conscience, throbbing in her head, that this mysterious girl would fair worse if she didn't obey Narcissa.

"So, this, err… girl, is the person you said your… Master commanded you to bring?" Asked Narcissa, also trying to shift his bad mood.

"Yes, well, obviously, I thought it would at least be an adult… not a… a…" His rage seemed to be frothing over. Draco had never seen Lucius this mad before. He thought he would never get a flogging like he had had the night Dobby had been set free, but this, this was extremely worrying. A vein in Lucius' temple was throbbing, and he still couldn't spit out what this girl, whatever her name was, was. "A… A…" he took a deep breath, and let Narcissa lead him to an empty chair. Finally, he said, with great difficulty "A Squib"

The girl was unaffected by this show of hatred to the select group of people she belonged to. Obviously, she was used to it. Draco thought Lucius would retire for the night, but no, he had still more: "He wouldn't tell me what she was useful for, he just left her in my dispatch. He told me I could do anything with her, apart from kill her. She is of no mutual value to him. I think maybe" he shot her an evil glance, just to show her he was back on top of things again "He might use her as a Human Sacrifice. You know, wizards could curse you as you sacrifice them, and muggle blood is dirtier than Weasleys' little hovel, so this way, we can have the best of both worlds. But she completely mucked up my path of Apparating," He said, brushing himself down, and throwing her an extremely dirty look. "Squibs do that you know"

"The fact that there was a thunderstorm wasn't my fault and you know it!" Shouted the girl at this point.

"Silence!" Lucius yelled, his rage instantly coming back, and bubbling over.

He hit her, hard, across the face, and, being in a bad state already, she was flung across the floor. She made a feeble attempt to get up at this point, and looked as if fit to burst with rage. In her paling face, with once pretty features, deep brown eyes, such as Draco had never seen before, and long, flowing raven hair, scraped into a plait, and but a few freckles dotted on her nose, all Draco could see was pain.

Going on and on, forever.

It seemed as, at that moment, she was but an object to everyone else, and, in knowing it, became the saddest creature alive.

Living a life worse than a prisoner in Azkabaan, even, knowing that, even if she went away, far, far away, she would still have those memories of how they all taunted her, all the children, and how all their parents said she was nothing, a waste.

Such a good line of blood, ruined. And for what, this? Draco wanted to help her, wanted to be the only one, knowing her problems, understanding them. In a way, he understood. He had always been called a waste of space, by his father, his teachers, and so resorted to the only thing which would make his father proud. He was as evil as they expected him to be.

He took a step forward, to go and pick her up, prop her against a chair or something, get something warm for her, but his attempt was not seen, because at that point, a massive bolt of lightning hit the house, and all was plunged into darkness. Draco could see Lucius to be shaking his head and he heard a whisper of 'insolent fools' falling from his lips, then quick footsteps retreating, obviously Lucius'. He heard a small voice swearing, cursing Lucius. He could guess who that was, without knowing the sound of her voice, or even being able to see her lips move. A few seconds after Lucius had left, the lights flickered back on. Narcissa breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and went to pick the girl up, who was now just sitting up, looking worried. Draco didn't blame her, if he was a Squib in his Father's house, he would be.

Narcissa, Draco and the maid stared at the girl for a few moments, Narcissa the only one able to mask her surprise with a cold stare. Draco sincerely hoped that the look on the maid's face was not a mirror of his or he'd be for it. Brazen curiosity was a very bad thing in Malfoy Manor.

"Myleen" Said the girl, brushing herself down. She had a flowing voice, like she was infinitely wise, yet only a little girl. It made a shiver travel momentarily down his spine, like someone dropped an ice cube down there and it was sliding against his skin.

"Well, are you OK?" Narcissa broke off, not able to carry on. She obviously felt like Draco – strangely compelled to trust the girl with the fact that she wasn't actually as cold and evil as she had to pretend to be. However, she was old and wise enough to know that she could not let her guard down altogether. She sat down, and rubbed her hands together for warmth.

"I'm fine." Said this strange girl, and Narcissa looked better for the small bit of reassurance. The warmth returned to her cheeks, and the slight smile, which Draco knew and loved, the one that could always be found on Narcissa's pink lips returned also. "I've lived through worse" Myleen added, in an undertone, seemingly directed with a small smile at Draco, as she was taken swiftly from the room.

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Done yet more editing, after taking into account the comment which I received a veeery long time ago. Absolutely right in my opinion.

Done some editing, I finally got round to doing SOMETHING with my account. It was annoying me that I couldn't make it more what I had imagined it. I hope you all like it better now. I'm going on to doing the next chapters now, and I will, if I can get back into the swing, try and add some more. Thanks for reading.

OK, was that weird? I imagined it 2 b better and more flowing than that, but I couldn't remember any of my dialogue wot I did think of… anywayz, please R+R!!! I am also thinking of doing some random dodgy weird fanfic which will be humour, hopefully, I've tried Humours before, and they never went anywhere, so please tell me wot y'all think!!! mwah luv yaaa.


	3. Chapter 3: Memories of it

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the Harry Potter books, but I dooo own Myleen. Indeedey. Neither do I own Minerva Louise or the song from which the chapter title comes, Otherworld by… not entirely sure but it's from the beginning of Final Fantasy X.

This chapter will change perspectives a couple of times, but bare with it, I will prosper!!! vanishes in smoke clouds

(Is it bare? Or bear? Someone tell me please!!!)

Okay… here goes… cough cough damn cloud smoke allergies…

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Chapter 3: Memories of it, Cloud your sight.

She slammed the door with all her might, which was pretty hard, considering what she had been through when smaller. She would have to fight almost every week, having to outsmart all those 'clever' wizard kids. She was still in pretty good shape, having to train every day because of her paranoia.

She hesitated, breathing heavily, making the dust stir up and cause her to cough, which diverted her from the visions, flashbacks, she was having of the first time she was let down… black…

She woke up, shaking violently, not yet aware silent tears were flooding from her eyes, on the dusty, wooden floor. 'Why am I so weak when I need to be strong?' she thought to herself, furiously trying to wipe her eyes, but to no avail. There was no controlling them now; they would just keep coming until she was completely de-hydrated. All the tears she should have cried… then. She lay there, unable to compose her mind to think of anything but him, how he smelled, walked, and how he would smile upon her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the entire world, even though they all knew she wasn't.

Her Granddad had been a Squib too, and Myleen's inspiration. He had loved her more than life itself… Myleen felt her heart falter, stutter for one second, as she thought of that particular aspect of him. She had never seen him that way before, never gotten to say goodbye, and now… it was too late. 'He's gone,' she told herself, 'he won't come back' She felt so vulnerable, so small. Like all she wanted to do was roll into a ball and hibernate in the deepest and darkest corner of this musty-smelling, dust-bunny filled room. "That bastard" she said, now aloud, to herself, now turning her thoughts to Lucius she looked pitifully around the room, the one Lucius had appointed as her bedroom. She had seen many bright, brilliant bedrooms with four poster beds but Lucius had walked straight on, slowly, as if taunting her. She scrunched her knees up to her chest and cried silently for everything, talking absent-mindedly to something she now supposed was there, almost like God, but not. Her Guardian Angel, she thought aloud.

"Are you my Guardian Angel?" she asked the nothingness. "Because if you are just a spider or something like hiding underneath that table, then… stay there? I need to talk to you, Granddad. You were the only thing I loved that loved back, everything else bit me, including Mum and Dad. I don't know what to do now you're…" she couldn't talk any longer; her heart was filled with remorse, bitterness, anger, and most of all, sadness. A couple of seconds later though, she decided she had to continue on. "Are you… gone, Pappi? Or are you still here," she held the medal fastened aimlessly to the top underneath her woollen jumper, as if to indicate he was inside the medal "right here." She closed her eyes, wishing herself away momentarily to a tropical island, filled with beautiful flowers, and everything she could wish for, which included her Granddad, cuddling her close, stroking her hair the way he used to when she was nine, rocking backwards and forwards in his old rocking chair. This was the time when she had found out she was a Squib, and a reject to all of society. All the children in her class had passed the test, to tell if you are ready to go to Wizarding School yet, you know if you are an exceptionally good student. All had imagined she would pass with flying colours, the young, but oh-so mature, headstrong, even in her few years experience, and, of course, remarkably clever.

Myleen doubled over, saying again and again, as if in a trance, a permanent flashback, "But Pappi, what does that mean? Why don't Mummy and Daddy want me anymore? What is a Squib?"

"I am a Squib," was the reply she had gotten, "A Squib is a very special person, who was born into a wizarding family but wasn't granted with powers, because they were meant for something more." She always remembered from that moment on, exactly what she was. Special. Not what everyone said snidely behind her back - 'a waste' or 'completely useless'.

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Draco had been drawn out of his room in the middle of the night, partly because of the fact that he had hardly eaten or drunk anything all day, but mainly because of the major-league storm that was still raging. He had thought it had subsided a bit, just after dinner, but obviously not. The thunder had been the loudest he had ever heard before, and the lightning had lit up the room even though he had had his heavy velvet drapes pulled tightly closed.

He heard mumbling as he went past one door, and wondered if they had perhaps got a new ghost inhabiting that room or something. He knocked, and when he found no reply, decided to just head in anyway.

What he found shocked him. At first he couldn't see anything through the darkness, except a small candle burning somewhere on the floor. There seemed to be no traces that anyone, even a ghost, could inhabit such a place, yet the sobbing noises and mutterings were still coming from near the candle. The person uttering these lunacies, like "get off me, I never stole anything and you know it" and "you can hit me all you like, I'm not gonna tell you."

Draco was confused. Could the 'ghost' be hallucinating? He reached out his palm, using his hands to guide him through the pitch-black room. The ghost said something Draco didn't understand, because a flash of lightning and thunder filled the room with pure light and sound. This was the worst storm ever.

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Myleen sobbed uncontrollably. She couldn't stop the frequent flashbacks, or the tears. Maybe she was ill?

She had never cried like this in her life.

"Who's there?"

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Draco thought the 'someone' was talking to him at first, and began to reply, but then a flash of lightning (accompanied by thunder, of course) filled the room, and he clapped eyes on the creature lying before him. It was no other than the girl who had arrived earlier that day. It was hard to recognise her underneath the blotched-face, cowering on the floor. Draco pulled out a muggle torch he had got, purely because the stupid Ministry of Magic wouldn't let him do magic.

"Answer me!" She demanded, sitting up, quite obviously to Draco no longer conscious. He didn't answer; she clearly didn't even know he was there. He helped her up, and she flailed her arms around aimlessly, trying to hit him, not being able to see him, she cried.

"Get off, I won't go with you! Granddad, save me, come and help me!"

"Don't shout. If father hears, he'll have you for waking him and me for being in here at all." Then, realising she wasn't responding to his usual (if softer) approach, added "I'm not going to hurt you." She threw her head back, and tried to yell, but it seemed she had lost her voice. She seemed so scared; Draco wondered what was going on in her mind. He had started to become oblivious to the thunder and lightning, but still had it clear in his mind that all this was a bad omen. By the torch light, he could see that her eyes were so full of tears and sorrow, just an endless sorrow which had led to despair… and now… to this.

As he stared into those eyes which seemed to plunge into the depths of forever, he seemed to remember. Remember who he was and who his Father was, but mostly (or most importantly) remember what his Father would do to him if he found that underneath it all, Draco was rooting for 'those intolerable fools' as his Father called them. As much as Draco wanted to break free from his Father, his Slytherin-ness, his reputation, himself, he couldn't do it. He was afraid.

It wasn't just the physical abuse he would get from his Father, and maybe Marcus Flint and his gang, but the mental abuse. He could get over pain, physical scars could be hidden, he had perfected the spell the year he'd been admitted to Hogwarts, but the mental scars which had been inflicted at the same time could never be concealed by spells or even a bit of make-up. Of course, he didn't have to tell anybody about the scars his tired brain contained, but that didn't mean they went away, didn't mean that they stopped tormenting him, torturing him in the dead hours of the night, when no-one was around for _him_ to torment, to ease the pain. He wished he didn't do what he did, but now, he couldn't turn back. He was branded as a true Malfoy, and would probably stay branded until the day he died. Daddy's little boy. Lucius would most probably make sure of that. He'd probably make him become a Death Eater, like his dear old Daddy himself, and he'd be doomed to be hated by all decent people everywhere. He instantly thought of the song, the one about Robin Hood, the fabled patriot who risked his life, and finally died for his cause. His own song would have a slightly different tune, probably much more negative than that of Robin Hood's, not even telling of how he _wanted_ to be the slightly younger, more wizarding version of him.

"Where are you, Granddad?" Myleen asked the air, or what she thought was air. Draco couldn't answer, he couldn't find words. He thought that maybe even if he could locate some words, any, his throat had become so dry that he wasn't sure he would be able to speak at all. He had to go, but he couldn't leave her like this. And would he be able to sleep after knowing that he had left someone in dire need of help; he would have to get her to come to her senses.

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Suddenly, Myleen opened her eyes and looked at me. It was so intense that I just had to look away; I couldn't stand her piercing eyes which seemed to look straight to my soul, and completely read all my thoughts. I didn't know what to do at first, when she swiftly spoke, it wasn't the first time, of course, but this time it was different. Before she was just rambling to the air, but now she looked _at _me, into my eyes, carefully choosing her words.

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"Granddad?" I whispered to him. He was there. Right there. I mean, it wasn't his body or anything, but in his face, I could just tell, I knew it was him. "Granddad help me" The figure I was talking to, the one harboring the Granddad symptoms, closed its eyes, I think, when I talked to it, maybe it was because of the flash of lightning that just filled the room or something, but I dunno, I just felt more at ease now I knew Granddad was here.

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All of a sudden, my head felt dizzy, and closed my eyes, worried that they'd pop out of my head if I didn't shut the lids tight. I was growing smaller, I was sure. My mind had turned into a sketchy room, drawn as if it were in a book or something, I remember now, it was the room from the book my Mother read to me. 'Minerva Louise'. It was about a chicken or something. I shook my head, getting rid of these dreamy feelings, like the me in me was trying to sleep. I noticed someone sitting in the chair beside the fire. I had never seen him in my life before, but I wasn't sure what the hell he was doing in my imagination, 'cause that was what I thought I must have shrunk into, my imagination had just taken over, like when you're lying in bed, and you could swear that a monster just breathed, or slunk past you, licking its blue tongue over its fang-like teeth.

"Err… excuse me, Sir, but who are you, and erm… why are you inside my head?" As I drew closer, I could see that this man had a balding head with a couple of stray grey hairs dotted randomly about his scalp. He looked up and sighed. I was almost immediately obsessed with his eyes, and couldn't take my own off them; they showed such broad knowledge and wisdom, I thought he must be a majorly powerful Wizard.

"I am Myleen's Grandfather, and no, I'm not an all-powerful wizard at all, in fact I'm just as helpless as Myleen herself, I have no magic in my veins, I'm not as privileged as yourself, and to tell you the truth, I'm not sure you are the best person for this, Draco Malfoy, not exactly a shining pillar of justice yourself, but nonetheless, better than old Lucius, and Myleen seemed to choose you over your Mother, although I'm not quite sure why. At least she is _open _about the fact that she does not support Voldemort or your Father, at least she _admits _it to herself, not all this lying about her true self nonsense. Anyway, you must be wondering why on earth you have Myleen's Grandfather in your head, talking to you," I nodded, a bit dumbfounded that someone would be so openly honest to me, Draco Malfoy, son of one of the most influential Death Eaters ever to err.. grace (and I use the term lightly there) the planet, but, then again, this guy is dead. "Well, and know this before we start this out, I am not doing this for your benefit, or anyone else's, strictly for Myleen, in her hour of need." I sort-of felt myself nod vaguely, but not being completely me anymore, this old man had power over me, this Squib, I almost couldn't believe it. I felt so weak, he was taking over me without even looking the slightest bit fatigued, it was fascinating to watch, and if I could go back, I wish I would have tried to stay awake a bit more, but it was quite a nice sensation, almost like all the impurities of Draco were gone, I was the Draco I wanted to be, and, I guess, the Draco Myleen's Granddad wanted me to be so that I would not put up a fight to him almost 'possessing' me. "Okay, well here we go, this might feel a bit odd, but I'm sure you've felt worse physical pain from your Father's cane, or whatever he uses to beat you with" This guy really had it in for me. I wonder why…

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Yaaaaaaaaay, my very first cliffhangery thing, so you best like or I shall force-feed you all gruel and you will NOT like it at all. No no no. I know I got a bit italic-happy there, but it's my italic button blabla.

This was added on to the end of the other chapter, so if there's some confusion, hopefully I jus cleared that up.


	4. Chapter 4: An Empty Vessel

OK, it has taked me a while to update, but I has been away on holidays, so forgive me blabla, and I have also been planning out yet another new Fanfiction, which will be a Kingdom Hearts one, and I found that necessary to put in here… um… because I felt like it!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters appearing in the Harry Potter books. Myleen's Grandfather, and Myleen herself, belong to me.

On with the story!!! And this is going to change perspectives a couple of times as well, but not as much as the other chapters. I am writing this now, in honor (kinda) of my promise before, that I would include something else.

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Chapter 4: An empty Vessel?

Slowly I felt myself be pushed backwards as this man, this ghost, swelled, until all the space that was left was me, crouching in the farthest, darkest corner of my now disowned mind. For that was what it was, neither mine, nor his, him not having the absolute power of a wizard. It all felt so strange, my limbs were numb, probably because they were no longer mine. I suddenly realized I was a free spirit, and I quickly gained a sense of this, in that my metaphorical heart swelled, very much as Myleen's Grandfather had just done. I felt great, powerful, and for once, not like the small boy crouched in the corner, which I so often was, but the man who truly knew what it was to be free. I no longer felt that I was tied down by my feeble, weak body, this cage, vessel, which always seemed to push me down, put me down, make me seem so smaller than I, in truth was. They used to say I was lucky, rich, influential parents, popular, 'cool' (and I say it that way because cool is a matter of who you are and what your beliefs are) I was good looking, to some extent. They envied me. But they never understood it, how I would have sacrificed anything, no matter how hard it was, with my upbringing, to have been Ronald Weasley. Well not exactly Weasley, I thought to myself. Even after all this, I still had a little dignity.

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Slowly, the eyes opened. I say 'the' because I was not sure at that point _who_ it actually was. For two reasons, really. One, I was so blinded by tears; I wouldn't have been able to see even if I had wanted to. And two, I felt so secluded; I was the only one who knew my pain. I can see now, it still haunts me, the reality of aloneness. I can see the face of the nobody that haunted me leering at me, through the darkness. I was faintly aware of thunder and lightning in the background, or something, but suddenly, a brilliant light appeared. It shone all around me, and right in me, as well. I could feel it coursing through my veins, and mostly; in my heart. Everything had faded away by this point, I had been so blind to it, as it had seemed to me that I had no-one to love me, and no-one to love back, just loneliness. But the light signified something the darkness had savagely ripped away: and that was love. I don't know how I sensed it, but someone appeared to me, kneeling in front of me, looking as though they had just been trying to comfort me. I looked up at them, what a sight I must have been. I seemed to absorb some of the light at this point, some of _his _light. He must be an angel. An angel… wait a minute…

"Grandfather?" And out of this angelic body, quite certainly not my Granddad's own, crippled, weak, fragile, feeble, cage, spoke himself, and I felt the light stop. For a moment I wondered why this had happened, but then I realized it, his presence shed enough light onto me to let me, and, the rest of the entire living population, to live without the Sun's own rays, to place a permanent stopper over the Sun's eager face, without harming so much as a little seedling.

"Yes, child, I am here, come to tell you something I forgot to tell you in my youth" He said, with a smile, as to show that this was a condition for one of our little jokes.

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A crash of thunder scared me senseless (excuse the pun) at this point; I retreated to a corner in the room, and could just hear two voices, one, my own, and the other… Myleen! She had awoken then. She was conversing with her Grandfather about something or other. At first, I was just glad she was safe, but then, remembered it was not so easily overcome, this insufferable grief which seemed to have consumed her, all of a sudden, this girl, at whom I was so surprised to, first, find a Squib, and therefore incapable of performing magic, which seemed so odd; I thought all who radiated power, were able to stand up to such superior dictators such as my Father, and even, as it seemed, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Himself, had to be in the possession of some magic. They must. Mustn't they? At this point I could not answer my somewhat feeble question, and so retired to watching this reunion, between two whom, in the space of a few minutes, I had grown to silently respect; as comrades, peers, but never as fellow-wizards it seemed. I was still baffled at this revelation, how could two so feeble in their position in the Food-Chain be so self-respecting, and manage to get by with words so? It seemed I was about to find out why.

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Draco edged forward slightly as he strained his non-existent 'senses' to see or hear anything of the conversation between these two creatures, who seemed so interested in how each other was getting on.

"But, Granddad, how can I survive this if I know Voldemort's after me?" Draco mentally shivered at this name being pronounced, but his body, currently inhabited by an ancient, and dead, man, gave no sign of fear at this name, not even a flinch.

"You have powers they will never have, my dear. All those years, being surrounded by magical people, your body had to know it was good enough to be around people of 'this standard'. It's something most Squibs' bodies do; I had the gift myself, and it makes you better than all of them put together, no matter what they say." Myleen looked up at this moment, and Draco saw the determination in her eyes to actually understand make sense of what her Grandfather was saying, while she still could. He noticed this and carried on, "I gather you've noticed me watching over you, I have seen what has happened since I have… passed on…" He paused, thinking "I had to come back to tell you this one thing, my whole stay on earth was about this right now, and when I'm finished, I am going to go… wherever you're supposed to go when you die…" he sounded so unsure at this last bit, that Myleen reached over, and gently grasped her Grandfather's hand. (Well Draco's, but you get the idea)

"I don't want you to leave me again, Pappi."

"You know I'll have to leave you, but in your heart you know you can live without me, you are so strong."

Myleen understood that her grandfather would not speak anymore of this subject, by the look in his eyes. These were not the usual indifferent grey of Draco, but the beautiful pale blue ones of her Grandfather. Eager to put a stopper in her musings, Myleen asked "So, what is this special gift of mine, then?"

"Empathy."

"Empathy? And that's special?" she roared, or tried to; she didn't have much energy for being her usual roary self.

"Yes. Empathy in its highest form."

At this point, Draco could feel the eyes of Myleen's grandfather on him, and decided to retreat back to himself, however hard it was. Upon arrival, Myleen's Grandfather greeted him. The old man seemed to have shrunk and retreated a bit in Myleen's mind.

"No, you have grown. I see that while you weren't attached to a body you gained more of a grip, as it were, on reality." He gave a small, but insufferable chuckle, then became more serious. "But now, Myleen needs you to explain this"

"Where will you go?"

"I shall stay here until I have completed my task"

"You mean 'until I've completed it for you.'" Myleen's Grandfather gave a little chortle. "Okay, here goes" Draco readied himself to take over yet again.

He became himself once more, and Myleen sensed her Grandfather's recoil.

"Grandfather? Where are you?"

"He's still here, he asked me to explain what he couldn't." These words Draco spoke, but felt as if he was not speaking, he was sure he had been given these words from a prompt, but there was none. He was doing this himself, but there was no time for congratulating himself, he had to carry on, being this better person.

Well, better in his view.

* * *

Okay, I left it there bcos I haven't updated this fanfic in ages, and I needed to, sooo I just got to a place where it could end, and ended it. Is it ok? I mean it could be a bit of a cliffhangery thing, but it might jus b stoopid. Er… anyway, R+R!!! Hope you enjoyed! 


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